6 AM
by A Raven of Emotions
Summary: AU BTR short story. Kames? Jhay? Jace? Summary: James is a college freshie struggling with bi-polar II and schizophrenia. As if things weren't difficult enough, he finds himself torn between his three best friends: Kendall Knight, Shay Hanson, and Jack Chaser. All three have feelings for James, and of course James cares about all three of them. Who he loves? He doesn't know.
1. Dear Diary, Life is trying Me

Hello, everyone. This will be a short story, probably a two or three shot story, AU BTR and kind of descriptive in terms of psychological disorders and adult situations. It's something new I'm trying in terms of telling a story, but I do hope I get some feedback to either continue and improve or take down and re-write. Please sit back, read, review and enjoy. :) **Disclaimer: I own only the two shot's plot! Nothing else! And Shay and Jack aren't OCs! They are actually characters Kendall has played as in other shows! Their backgrounds, and Jack's last name, have been altered slightly but again they are NOT OCs! They are characters Kendall has played as, Shay from 'Without a Trace' and Jack from 'Ghost Whisperer' I think!**

* * *

Hey there. I'm not sure if anyone is reading this or not, because society today doesn't see past it's own agenda, but my name's James.

James Diamond.

...Yeah, I know what you're thinking. It's a pretty strange last name; you don't hear Diamond that often when addressing a person, most likely a shiny, precious stone that most girls go dreamy-eye over. Well I'm not playing with you, that's my name. James Dylan Diamond, the son of Brooke Sabrina Diamond.

...Ha, I got you now!

Now that's a name you're most likely familiar with, right? My mom is the head, no make that the Queen, of Diamond Cosmetics. It dominants a majority of the competition and marketing in the Mid West, and over the years has expanded to California, Florida, even New York in small empires. My mom build DC from the ground up all by herself; my dad Alec wasn't one for make-up so he did most of the background work: setting up the company's website, inventory, you name it he did it. After my parents divorced when I was eight though, Dad moved away and married a lady fifteen years younger than him.

Let's just say Mom's still a bit bitter about that. But anyway, moving on.

A lot of people thought that Mom hasn't lost a lot after the divorce: it was only her husband, a friend and the father of her only son. My mom wasn't made of stone though; behind the sharp brown eyes and kind of control freak personality, she did have those rough nights after Dad left. I'm assuming that like me Dad was too afraid to stand up to her, but unlike me chose to leave before he lost his sanity. My mom wasn't hard to live with, but she could be a little...intimidating.

Intimidating to the extreme, but all in all she was still a great mom.

I mean, I'm a seventeen year old boy who's still a virgin (go ahead, laugh), doesn't drink or do drugs, party like crazy or ditch school to hang out with friends. I'm smart (and a pretty boy), driven, friendly (when I'm not being shy) and downright likable I hoped. I focused more on my studies (did I mention I'm a freshman in college?) and work (at the campus library) than dating or being "cool". I wasn't anti-social or anything, but I'd rather have a future than a bottle of vodka.

That, and because it's hard to find a good, decent person in this world when all everyone's focused on is sex. I'm pansexual (which thankfully my mom was okay with) so gender doesn't really apply here, but personality? That was a BIG thing for me; to date a bad boy or sweet goody two-shoes? Doesn't sound like much, but to me it was everything.

Mom, and deep down I agreed, didn't want me to go through what she did. Whoever I brought home she picked apart like a puzzle, to see if that person was really "worthy" of her son.

Of her socially awkward, schizophrenic, bi-polar, introverted son.

...Yeah, I have a list of "unique" quirks. I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder when I was thirteen, diagnosed with schizophrenia two years later. Mom suffered another big blow when my doctor gave her the news: schizophrenia was hereditary, something my grandpa and uncle on Dad's side had. Grandpa Jameson, who I was named after, made it through life okay but Uncle Bradley committed suicide at twenty-five. He was not that much older than me when he drowned himself at the beach during a family outing.

First the divorce, and now this.

How did my mom manage to keep it all together was beyond me...

...

The fear of me doing the same was clear on my mom's face that day. I was fifteen then, had no clue what was wrong until Doctor Stone and Mom sat me down and explained that I'd have to take certain medications for the rest of my life and attend therapy with Dr. Wainwright. She's my therapist to this day, I'm always on time for our weekly meetings every Friday afternoon at five.

You can say that finding out her son had both bi-polar disorder and undifferentiated-type schizophrenia made Mom even more protective of me than she already was.

I mean, she taught me how to be social, confident and driven. The driven lesson I got down, since at seventeen I was on a full scholarship at one of the best universities in Minnesota. That, and my test scores, back when I was only in eighth grade, said I had the brains of a college junior. I was smart, very smart which was a surprise mostly to me. My disorders didn't break my strife, didn't make me think less of myself as a person. Life is hard but it's only Hell if you let it be.

It was the fact that...sometimes they got in the way of things.

I had to fill out a bunch of medical documentation when I started college this year, the nurse pressing me not to leaving anything out. She wasn't allowed to give me medication but I WAS allowed to have it as long as they knew why I needed it. I was allow to self-medicate and keep my regular therapist, not change to a counselor on campus but that didn't mean I didn't feel picked out. Plenty of kids had their own challenges to face, it's just that schizophrenia was something usually painted as "dangerous, unstable". True, I could get a little out of hand when I didn't take my meds, but I rarely forgot to and while on them I was lucid. I functioned like a "normal" individual, nice and respectful of everyone.

My type of schizophrenia had symptoms that could fall under one or all four types. That must have made people think I was unstable even on medication, through and through.

Everyone seemed to un-acknowledge that I was bi-polar too. I guess in the back of their twisted minds, schizophrenia was ten times more of a horrible experience than bi-polar II.

Such a lovely world we live in, so closed minded and ignorant.

Which in no time resulted in me...being left alone.

Mom wasn't with me on campus. She visited every weekend and called every day, but it wasn't the same. There was just so much she could offer as company to me. She had her life, I was starting mine. Even though I was a minor I had begged her to let me move out and she agreed, on the conditions that I'd do my best and let her check up on me. She didn't see that every week I spent alone.

I didn't have a roommate, so I got the small, low-ceiling room made of prison gray bricks to myself. A few people knew about my "problems" and tended to avoid me, others just didn't notice me period. I ate breakfast alone, I went to class alone, I worked out alone, I did homework alone, I walked to my dorm alone.

Lessons in sociality and confidence had slipped through the weary cracks in my skull from there.

Everything I did, I did alone. And it did bug me, being treated differently because of my disorders. Mom kept saying that things would get better, that it's only the first few weeks but honestly I didn't buy it. I saw no improvement in the situation, and thought for a while that I'd graduate without any friends to miss, stories to tell, nothing at all to share.

Keyword: for.

For a while I thought that was the case. But after about a month into the school year, my quiet, loner freshman life was shattered. By a dirty blond problem.

Make that THREE dirty blond problems.

Oh, where to begin?

**_-Page Break-_**

Hey, you actually came back? Wow, it's a surprise to me, someone is actually interested in what I have to say. That's a rare thing to find, apart from in my professors.

Well, enough about my awe. Let's get to the real story; I've gotten my background out of the way, now to address my present-day dilemma.

Remember when I said that after a month into the school year, my once lonely freshman life was shattered to pieces? By a dirty blond problem?

Actually make that number three, three dirty blond problems.

My whole routine, lifestyle busted to pieces like an expensive glass vase.

A month into the school year, three days after my eighteenth birthday I got the news that I'd be getting a roommate.

...I felt mixed about this.

On one hand, I was excited. After weeks of coming to an empty, echoey dorm room every night after work, some kind of human contact was a double rainbow in the sky. The opportunity for a person to get to know me and not be held back by my disorders made me jittery; a new face, a new voice, a new friend. It filled me up with so much anticipation that I found it hard to sleep most nights.

That was the optimistic, social side of me that rarely came about nowadays.

On the other hand though, I was petrified! Another person in the room, who could be silently passing judgements about my interests, personality, routine? I was so use to being alone, the concept of a roommate was almost alien. Dr. Wainwright said that it could benefit me to have a roommate, if I was to get one, because I'd develop more close, personal relationships outside her, Mom and Dr. Stone. Not that it was bad I was introverted, but even introverts had to try and break the shell sometime.

And fears could be the absolute worst thing to hold a person back from trying new things.

Huh, no negatives yet. Interesting...

You can see where this is going, right?

So from there, about a week later I finally met my roommate. He was seventeen, would turn legal in November, and a dirty blond with bottle green eyes, thick dark eyebrows, and a blunt nose. His name was Kendall Knight, and like me was here on a scholarship but unlike me on a HOCKEY scholarship. I loved hockey, it was my favorite sport but I couldn't play for the school's team since it would cut heavily into my studying time. I did go to all the games though, home or away, so I saw him a lot. He had a few classes with me too, even though he was a Music major while I swayed more towards the English department. He was okay with having me as a roommate, despite the word going around the school's grapevine about me, the schizophrenic.

The weird, nerdy schizophrenic bi-polar boy named James Diamond.

And that was because, because he had it hard too.

Kendall Knight, my roommate who soon over time also became my best friend, suffered from depression and TS.

TS was short for Tourette syndrome.

Tourette syndrome was a condition in which a person makes these repeated, quick movements or sounds they can't control. Like for example, cracking their neck or a sudden twitch of the eye or leg. They call these uncontrollable sounds or movements tics, and it's something usually noticeable in childhood. He wasn't treated for this, since the medications could produce side effects worse than the symptoms themselves. He told me his tics were really bad when he was nine and ten years old, and that they've gotten better as he got older. They still came around, often annoying him to no end, but he's learned to accept them. He was glad he didn't have to add any other medications to his taking list, too; dealing with anti-depressants was enough.

To say that I was happy someone was...like me, was an understatement.

I mean, dealing with these sort of things is terrible and I wouldn't wish them even on my worst enemy. Don't think I'm happy that Kendall suffers from TS and depression; he's a great guy, sweet and funny and nice, I can't imagine how hard it is to have TS. I maybe a bi-polar schizophrenic, but it wasn't the same you know? What he had to face was completely different from what I had to face. I wish he didn't have to suffer like me, to be different like me.

But the fact that someone knew what it was like, it made me feel...normal.

Like I wasn't the only one who had more on their plate than others, and that it was okay to be different.

That it was OKAY to be ME!

We could spend hours talking about our lives, heck about everything else apart from that! We could talk for hours on end about our favorite sports, music, colors, artists, dream vacations! We'd help each other with homework, walk to class together, play street hockey in front of our dorm, eat together at the cafeteria or something quick in our room, everything we could do together we did. We even worked opposites shifts at the library; as I get off he's free, ready to head back to our room. He'd wait for me outside, listening to music or reading, until I'd come out.

He introduced me to his mom Jen and baby sister Katie, I introduced them to my mom. We'd spend weekends together, laugh together, okay in short we grew really close.

Not only because we both knew what it was like to live with something inside, but also because of our personalities.

They complimented each other: I was shy, he was out-going. I did homework weeks before it was due, he procrastinated with EVERYTHING. I was organized, he wasn't so organized. I was too trusting of others, he chose to trust only a few with his heart. We had our similarities and differences, but that only strengthened our relationship, our friendship. He was bi-sexual, at first afraid to tell me in case I didn't want to be friends anymore. The relief that had washed over him when I admitted I was pan made me smile.

He didn't reject me, and I didn't reject him.

People avoided us a lot more from then on, wondering why a seemingly normal guy like Kendall hung out with me. I felt guilty at first, that my presence drove possible friends for him away but he never really cared. He liked being around me, hanging out with me.

He liked me, he really liked me.

And I liked him. I really liked him.

_**-Page Break-**_

I know, I know, I mentioned I had THREE dirty blond problems. So far I've only mentioned one, am I right?

Well, here's dirty blond problem number two. Well they're not really problems per say, but they have been driving me up the Wall of Confusion as of late.

...Sorry about that, rambling again. Okay, moving on...!

Problem number two. Dirty blond problem number two.

His name is Shay Hanson, he was sixteen but not a freshie like me. He was taking advanced (AKA college) classes at the university, pretty ahead of the game for a sophomore. I met him in my six to eight-fifty A.M. Comm. (short for Communications) class, we were paired up for an improv speech. Our topic: is our culture oversexualized?

The speech had to be at least two minutes long, and we had to maintain eye contact, proper body language and volume before our audience.

I hated this class, with a passion I hated it. I hated talking in front of people, knowing a majority were eyeing me simply because of my bi-polar schizophrenic label. I just wanted to disappear, not be seen or noticed this time.

But Shay...Shay helped me.

During the whole speech he asked questions, pretending to be the skeptic, allowing me to step in and answer at own my pace. For some reason sharing information with others wasn't hard for me; I'd simply lose myself in recalling the numbers, footnotes and phrases to even remember why I was so nervous in the first place. In the end the audience clapped and we passed with a high B, something that nearly made me jump in glee. I rarely leave that class without a beet root red face.

I thought that would be the last time I'd ever see him. I was wrong, though.

We ran into each other in the hallway one Tuesday afternoon, as I was leaving the science building. It turned out my Principles of Bio. class was cancelled that day, meaning I had about two hours before I had to clock in at work. His Astronomy class got cancelled too since the teacher was at a wedding, which led to our encounter; Kendall was stuck in his Music Appreciation class for another hour, which meant I would have to find something to do alone in the meantime.

That is, until Shay invited me to catch the drama department's production of Romeo and Juliet with him.

At first I hesitated. Not many people asked me to join them for things; most were covers to make fun of me in front of the entire student body. Bullying wasn't something new to me, but Kendall was better at dealing with that than I was. The last thing I needed was to be shoved down the stairs, again.

But this dirty blond with olive green eyes, dark thick eyebrows, a blunt nose and split lower lip turned out to be nothing like a bully.

...

I'm not playing with you, Kendall and Shay could pass off as twins. They were roughly a year apart, only difference was that Shay was an only child like me. And that his eyes were olive green, not bottle. He worked at the local grocery store, only blocks away from the university. He lived with a friend; he had left his parents' place days after turning sixteen.

...Moving on.

He was funny, shy like me, and really nice and smart. We shared opinions on the department's interpretation of the famous star-crossed lovers, the subplot, costume designs, etc. We continued to talk even when the play was over, us keeping quiet during the scenes and going for the water fountain during intermissions. He was pleasant to talk to, and from there we saw each other regularly.

He wouldn't meet me with Kendall, though. He claimed he was really shy around new people, that it got him nervous and I didn't want to push him so I didn't press the matter. I felt bad about...practically sneaking around behind Kendall's back to meet him, but Shay wasn't ready so I didn't push him. The two knew about each other, it's not hard to realize you have a twin of sorts walking around, but both seemed to avoid each other when it came to me.

I liked Kendall, I really did. But I really liked Shay too, and wished we could all hang out as friends. Especially when Shay admitted to having DID.

DID stood for Dissociative identity disorder.

That was a disorder in which a person could have one, two or more distinct personalities, or "persons", living in the same body. The age, gender, memory, etc. of the "person" could vary, though the central personality (Shay) can experience blackouts when these others take over. After the control is given back to him, he is left with large portions of his memories missing and unable to recover them. It's something Shay has struggled with since he was little; his friend always went with him to therapy, though he didn't take medication for it.

Shay had three distinct personalities, apart from his own: there was Jeff, the more impulsive, angry and irrational side of him that was thirteen. Next came Addie, a little five year old girl who was easily brought to tears but liked to sing and dance. And Lastly Simon, the thirty-two year old who rarely raised his voice, was calm and collected and didn't fall apart under pressure. Jeff, Addie, and Simon were the other core parts of who Shay was, and whether he liked them or not they were there to stay.

About twenty-seven percent of people who develop this disorder are said to have suffered extreme sexual abuse as a child. Shay, after breaking down in my arms, told me that was he raped by a family friend when he was seven and that the abuse continued until he was twelve. When he finally told his parents at fourteen, they didn't believe him and made him apologize to his rapist for lying. Of course once Shay's friend had enough money for an apartment, he left with him days after turning sixteen. His mother begged him to come back, after realizing he was telling the truth, but Shay cut off all connection with her. And his dad was an alcoholic bastard anyway, there was no need to waste breath on scum.

Sex was, and still is, a sensitive subject for him. He was gay and out of the closet and proud of it, but being touched was another story.

...

Shay's had it hard too, just like Kendall.

Just like me.

And that was enough for me to drag them to finally meet face-to-face. Both blonds were as stubborn as two-ton boulders, but eventually caved in to my pleas. Like I suspected, after getting to know each other and having plenty of time to talk, the two became friends. I know that what the three of us have to deal with individually differed greatly, but friends who knew the pain, the loneliness of it all suddenly weren't so different. It's not just what was the same that brought people together; it was what was different, too.

And people sometimes are stronger together than all alone.

I knew that from experience, and Kendall did too. And so did Shay.

And so did someone else...

_**-Page Break-**_

I'm actually glad you're still here, to hear the rest of the story that's my life. Well, I'm only eighteen so the story of my life so far.

Before we go any farther, I want to make something clear again: these dirty blond "problems" aren't really problems. They're my best friends. A lot of people confuse them as triplets, related but they aren't and are completely different from the other. They've helped survive me the fall semester, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

It's just...I have to say this now or my dilemma won't make much sense.

The real problem is...is that all three blonds seem to have feelings for me.

...

Yeah, it's that type of problem. Not the "friends secretly hate each other behind each other's back" problem.

It's the "oh no, I'm stuck in a love square" problem.

A love square; rare but it CAN happen.

And currently something that IS happening right now with me, Kendall, Shay and Jack.

Wait, hold on a second...I haven't introduced Jack yet. Damn things slip by me, sorry about that. Well, since this is a new page in the story, I'll take these next few lines to introduce you to my third dirty blond "problem", Jack Chaser.

Jack Chaser wasn't a high schooler taking advanced courses like Shay, or a freshie like me and Kendall. He wasn't a brainy high schooler, not a chipper freshie or sophomore but a junior; he was two grades ahead of me and Kendall, and unlike Shay who hoped to be a Psychology major he was going for a career on stage. He was twenty and had played Mercutio in the school's play, his performance spectacular and doing justice to the beloved character. Jack was known as the player, one of the most flirtatious guys on campus. All he had to do was smile or wink and his target would be putty in his hands.

Kendall was the music guy; Shay was the bad boy; that left Jack the player title. He was demisexual, with dirty blond hair shorter than Shay's but longer than Kendall's, with deep forest green eyes, thick dark eyebrows, a blunt nose and a large tattoo of black angel wings across his shoulders and down his back. He was lean like Shay and Kendall and had three older siblings, all girls. All of their names started with a J: Jack, Jessica, Jolene, and Jasmine.

He wasn't here on a scholarship. He worked as many hours as he could to pay the tuition and board, with his sisters helping him out with their positions as ATs (assistant teachers). He worked at the cafeteria Mondays, Wednesdays and Sundays, then clocked in for his shift at the library as a Biology tutor on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also babysat Jolene's twins on Fridays. Saturdays were his rehearsal days.

Jack was one of the popular guys, though he was part of the fraternity that wasn't famous for several accounts of date rape. He was a pretty nice guy, stood up for the little guys so to speak, had a knack for acting and very smart too.

Unlike Shay and Kendall and me, Jack didn't have a dominating inner demon to deal with.

But his sister Jasmine did. She had congenital heart disease, heart abnormalities present at birth that disrupt the proper flow of blood. The defect was within the chambers of her heart, and symptoms included fatigue, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, swelling of the abdomen or eyes, and bluish skin.

She had surgery during the Christmas break. We weren't together at the time, but we called, texted, and e-mailed each other every day. We sent Jack our best wishes, hoping everything would work out.

Thankfully, he wouldn't have to bury his sister anytime soon, like he had to do for his parents after the car crash that took their lives four years ago.

From there Jack hung out with us 24/7. He played soccer for the school and we went to all his games. He, Kendall and Shay got weird looks from time to time, considering the three could pass off as triplets but they didn't pay too much attention.

The fact that they were hanging with the nerdy schizophrenic bi-polar guy that was me garnered some attention too, but I've learned to ignore the negativity, the stares and overall rudeness.

Just like how I learned, the last week of break before the spring semester, that Kendall, Shay and Jack...all three had feelings for me.

All three.

You see why I called them my three dirty blond problems now?

_**-Page Break-**_

I for one do not think I'm attractive.

Yeah I was pretty well built, and inherited my dad's soft brown hair and hazel-green eyes from Uncle Bradley, but attractive? Nah, not even close; I even humored the pretty boy thing, because pretty I was far from.

I don't know if it was voices in my head that got me to believe that or my own reflection in the mirror. Point is, I was as "pretty" as a freshly painted wall. A white wall.

Bland, boring, ugly.

You get the picture...

"So James, are you excited to be back for the new semester?" Kelly asked me, arms crossed over her lap and a big, cheery smile on her face.

Kelly was Dr. Wainwright, my therapist and aunt. She wasn't my aunt by blood, but she's practically seen me grow up and everything. I loved her like family, blood or not.

I blinked, still feeling the effects of my bi-polar medication. I couldn't remember the name of it, but it was pretty powerful stuff. Just like what I took for my schizophrenia.

"Y-yeah, I guess?" Kelly's dark chocolate eyes grew concerned, her long, wavy black hair falling down her shoulders like a rich waterfall.

"Jamie honey, what's wrong? Something's on your mind, it's clear by the look on your face."

I racked my brain for the proper words, proper words to phrase my inner struggle. "It's about Kendall. And Shay. And Jack."

"Is Jasmine doing alright? Has Shay been having nightmares again? And Kendall, has his depression worsened?" Kelly knew everything about my friends. She's talked to them before, offered her help no matter what the problem was. She's grown to care about them as much as she did about me.

"No, no oh God no. I mean they're okay; Jasmine's doing fine and Shay is using the art club to vent his feelings out. Kendall's okay too, in fact his tics aren't happening as much anymore. It's just...they told me something over break that's had me dreading coming back."

"...What did they tell you, sweetie?" I took a deep breath, meeting her eyes.

"Jack, Shay and Kendall...they told me, you know in separate calls over break, that they h-have feelings for me."

There, I said it. The rock sitting on my chest felt a little lighter.

Kelly's eyes grew wide at this, expression surprised. "Oh..."

"Yeah. Auntie, what am I supposed to do? No, better question is how the hell did this happen?! I mean, how could three people fall for the SAME person?! And for me of all people!" I exclaimed, head now between my knees as I broke down crying.

I usually didn't lose control so easily, especially under my medications, but this was too much of an emotional drain. I couldn't carry it on my own.

I felt the couch sink under me as Kelly sat down beside me and pull me into her arms, my hands gripping her shoulders while she stroked my hair with her thin, warm fingers.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I know this must be confusing for you but don't let it stress you out. It's not going to help you, only hurt you. Look, I think I can say that I know Kendall, Shay and Jack well enough to know they won't push you into anything. They will give you time to think this through, you don't have to make a choice right now."

"B-but that's just it, Auntie. I don't know WHO to choose, I don't know how I...how I FEEL about each of them."

I pulled away to wipe my eyes, head spinning. "They're my f-friends, Auntie. I mean the first real friends I've had in a long time. People avoid me like the plague just because I have schizophrenia. I was so alone at first and now I'm not; I don't want anything to ruin it, this. They mean a lot to me, and helped me b-b-break out of my shell. And why me? I'm just James Diamond, nothing special..."

Kelly's eyes flared dangerously, a stern look on her face now. "James Dylan Diamond, do NOT talk about yourself like that! You're a sweet, wonderful boy and one of the smartest people I know! Life hasn't been fair to you but instead of letting it turn you bitter, you've bettered yourself and are becoming such a fine young man! And you are very beautiful, honey, very very beautiful. You just don't see it is all, as most beautiful people: they can't see or say how beautiful they are, they're very modest. YOU are modest, James, and you should never talk that way about yourself. You are amazing, my adorable and strong nephew and you WILL figure this out. How do I know? Because you are smart, you are a good friend and will do the best for yourself. So don't stress out now, okay? Stay strong, I know you can figure this out."

I didn't respond, merely rested my head on her lap and closed my eyes. She carded her fingers through my hair again, it somewhat soothing, while she hummed softly the karaoke version of one of my favorite Maroon 5 songs.

Did I know what I want? Could I really figure this out?

_**-Page Break-**_

I ignored calls and texts from Kendall, Shay and Jack.

I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, so many things buzzing in my ears.

Tomorrow they would be be back, Jack and Kendall and Shay. I chose to come back to Sherwood U early, have the room to myself to think tonight.

To think and sleep, to sleep and think.

I sat up and threw my phone aside, it landing on my empty backpack.

I was in for a long night.


	2. In Bed, Contemplating Your own Death

Hello. Updating again, but more violence in this one. You'd be surprised that college kids can be just as cruel as high or even middle schoolers...**Disclaimer: I own only the story's plot! Nothing else! And Shay and Jack aren't OCs! They are actually characters Kendall has played as in other shows! Their backgrounds, and Jack's last name, have been altered slightly but again they are NOT OCs! They are characters Kendall has played as, Shay from 'Without a Trace' and Jack from 'Ghost Whisperer' I think!**

* * *

Jesus fucking Christ...!

Oh, damn sorry again. I usually don't curse but when I hit a brick wall I tend to let a few slip. I should really fix that.

But then again, I can't even fix this tiny little problem!

I sat up again and threw my pillow against the bathroom door, frustrated. It slumped pitifully to the dark carpet floor, a makeshift frown visible as if asking why I did that. I ignored it though, as best as I could since I hated leaving things out of place, and climbed out of bed.

Me and Kendall worked the furniture in our room so we could do bunk beds. I took the top bunk since he preferred to go bottom, which didn't really bother me to be honest. I kind of liked being so high up, closer to the ceiling and off the ground. Made me feel like I was floating.

Took me a while to get on the ball though, since I use to smack my head on the ceiling every time I got up for classes.

I dug around our closet (the room came with two separate, but we chose to share one) until I found my favorite pair of sneakers: all black with white tongues and laces. They were really comfortable for walking, running, and even hunting.

I wasn't going hunting though, that wasn't my style, and I already went for my evening run. So walking it is.

Maybe the crisp, cool Minnesota air, melting squishy snow and serenity will clear my head.

Hopefully...

I wasted no time pulling on and tying my shoes, looking around for something to wear. I was still in my ripped, dark blue jeans from earlier and white tank, I just needed to find a shirt and I'd be ready. It might be the spring semester, but it was still too cold to go light right now.

After digging through several striped, patterned and plain shirts, I decided to go for a dark brown hoodie with black stripes going around the sleeves. It wasn't mine, but one I borrowed regularly from Kendall. I had taken it one day out of rush, I had slept in, and after noticing my mistake I had apologized to Kendall for taking his things without permission.

I should have known he would smile and brush it off. To him, what's his is mine's too.

And what's mine is his, though he usually borrowed more my shoes over tops.

I really liked this jacket. The hood was big and comfy, and the sleeves kept my fingers warm because they were so long. I wasn't a big fan of dark brown, but I did like the smell it always had: musky, light like spring rain.

No matter how many times it was washed, the smell never went away.

Musky, warm, light spring rain.

It was how Kendall always smelled like. Every day.

...

If that was creepy, sorry but I have an unusually strong nose. I can smell something even miles away and tell you the ingredients used in it if it's food. I swear, I'm not a creep that smells people for fun!

I've fallen asleep with it on before, during our late-night crams, so it was bound to happen. Bound to happen that I'd recognize and memorize his smell.

Like how Shay smelled like vanilla bean ice cream, and how Jack smelled like mango avocado.

Their shampoos were strong. Very intoxicating.

...I swear, I'm not a creepy Twilight vampire either. That series ruined bloodsuckers for me.

Anyway, back to the point!

I ignored my burning face and grabbed my ID card, flashlight, pepper spray and cell phone. I didn't have to worry about taking any keys, since people could only get into our dorm with the passcode. Unlike the Calloway and Greene dorms, students couldn't lie about forgetting their IDs to sneak in.

So, so much more secured despite its prison cell-like appearance: my dorm, the Justine dorm.

As I dug around for my googles, I took a moment to take in my and Kendall's room. We decorated the walls with everything that screamed us: posters of Maroon 5 and Taking Back Sunday, printouts of our favorite creepy pastas Jeff the Killer and Ticci Toby (with the artists' permission, of course, we're not thieves), and mini posters of our favorite T.V. shows. Mine was Arrow, Kendall's the Ultimate Spider-Man.

Yeah I know, we're dorks. But all this stuff, really cool once you get into it.

Plus what's "in" isn't always right.

The dark gray carpet and walls were depressing, but not so much thanks to my purple bed sheets and pillowcases. Kendall's too, his were a bright blue. We had our schoolbooks standing tall in heaps, our laptops stowed under our beds, T.V. usually on the ID channel, and game station neatly packed in the very back of the empty closet. We usually used that closet to hold our backpacks, past Halloween costumes, video games, magazines and pajamas. Most of our clothes, apart from jackets, jeans, and "fancy" shirts, were away in the chest of drawers by our beds.

It wasn't the best place ever, since our bathroom wasn't a separate room and our kitchen was nothing but a microwave and small fridge, but we made do with it.

It's what you to do in college. In life in general.

These pumpkin orange googles had been a present from Shay. He knew I liked collecting unusual things, so when he found them at a garage sale he knew they were for me. They were big and circular, a bright orange that went dark in the sun like built-in shades. They weren't for swimming, snowboarding, no sport in particular. They were just googles, made but reason for unknown.

And that was right up my alley.

I wore them every time I went for a walk at night. They made everything sharper and clearer, as if I was looking through a pair of cat's eyes. I had night vision with them, which made me feel safe. Jack had taken me to buy the flashlight and pepper spray one weekend when I told him I sometimes went out at night alone. He's had his fair share of muggers nailing him on his way back to the fraternity house; he didn't want to risk anything happening of the sort to me.

He, Kendall and Shay could manage themselves in a fight. I knew self-defense too, but I rarely wanted to fight back. Before them, I didn't fight back because I knew I'd lose either way.

Thanks to them though, I now had the courage to fight back tooth and nail if it meant staying alive.

I slipped my googles on and pocketed my ID, pepper spray, flashlight and cell. I made sure the volume was on very loud, so I could hear a call or text from Mom. I made my bed and left out the door, heading down the first flight of stairs in my way.

That's when I abruptly stopped in my tracks.

It was Saturday, and some other students had come back early too. To party no doubt, but hey that's how college could be. It didn't surprise me that loud music, laughing and the sound of spilling beer was apparent.

But something felt...off. Like something wasn't quite right.

If only my reflexes were as quick as my thoughts.

Because suddenly, big, rough hands grabbed my shoulders.

"Hey, l-let go of me!" I shouted, kicking and thrashing violently as I felt my feet leave the ground.

I heard laughing, no doubt from some meathead jocks that liked picking on quieter kids. I grunted and tried my best to fight back, all the while holding back stinging tears from the insults they threw at me.

"Ah look, the psycho is fighting back! Didn't know he had it in him!" One snorted.

"But look, he's crying! Aww, poor little retard!" One girl sneered.

"You should be put down like the mutt you are, freak." The second boy hissed.

"I s-said, let go!"

Another girl's voice soon echoed in my ears, followed by her charming yet still wicked laugh. "You heard him, Jett! Let him go!"

The blood then drained from my face, heart pounding in a spiraling panic.

"Wait, no! Stop! S-stop, please!"

I felt my body being held high over Jett's head, he carrying me with ease as if I was a rag doll. I began thrashing harder, desperate to escape. I felt my tears finally fall, I begging them to let me go, to leave me alone.

The others laughed even harder, while Jett hissed, "See you next fall, loser."

_**-Page Break-**_

All I could feel was pain.

Every stab of the steps as I tumbled downwards. I tried to grab hold of the rail to stop myself, but my hands only met air. I screamed as I kept rolling and rolling, rolling and rolling, blood, sweat and tears painting the walls I passed. I felt stabs at my stomach, the back of my head, my wrists and ankles. I struggled to breathe but my head was buzzing, spinning. My vision blurred and darkened, whole frame aching and covered with bruises.

I had blacked out before I finally crashed down the first floor staircase, limp in a small pool of blood against the big, heavy metal door.

The last thought I had was...'Oh God, help me.'


	3. Hard, You never knew your Mind was Dark

Another update ready. Enjoy. I guess. I don't know anymore. **Disclaimer: I own only the story's plot! Nothing else! And Shay and Jack aren't OCs! They are actually characters Kendall has played as in other shows! Their backgrounds, and Jack's last name, have been altered slightly but again they are NOT OCs! They are characters Kendall has played as, Shay from 'Without a Trace' and Jack from 'Ghost Whisperer' I think!**

* * *

And that's how I died. My heart stopped before I was even in the ambulance; my whole body was bathed in my own sticky, salty-smelling blood, the world now a dark hole for me to explore.

I never got the chance to say goodbye to Auntie, Mom. Jack, Shay. Kendall, none of them. I died without much of a memory to my name.

...

Do you thinking I'm telling the truth? Do you...?

...

Hahaha, psyche!

I'm just messing with you! I had you there for a second though, didn't I?!

Sorry, but I just couldn't help myself! I rarely get to pull pranks on people! Was it good?

...I-I mean, hooray! I'm still alive! Isn't it a miracle?!

...

Wow, tough crowd.

...Okay, sorry! I didn't mean to! I just wanted to have some fun, dark or not! Being in a hospital isn't fun I can tell you this, not fun at all!

...

Again sorry...! Can please we move on now? Yes, okay thanks!

I didn't die, but to say that I hadn't taken a one-way ticket to stitches and a heart monitor was an understatement.

I can barely recall what happened after I finally landed on solid, flat ground.

But what my brain couldn't remember my body did, to the T.

How does that make any sense?

Well for one thing, my right cheek had gotten caught in the door. The metal had first cut into the skin and meat below, before it sliced clean through. The first floor RA (short for resident advisor) had no idea she had just mutilated half of my face until she saw the damage. She fainted on the spot, her boyfriend strong enough though not to puke his guts out and call 911.

My mouth had been badly scarred by the door. The right side of my face...was now in a gruesome smile. The slicing and dicing of the metal had butchered the corner where my lower and upper lips met; that slope, once soft with a natural curve, was now jagged with an end that stopped below my eye. The torn muscles throbbed and burned, the nerves screaming.

At least that was the worst of it. The rest of my body...well, it wasn't in too bad of a shape.

Bruises. Bruises, bruises, and even more bruises. Purplish and throbbing, blood pounding below the abused areas. There was one at my neck, several across my chest and two on my left wrist. Surprisingly there were no bruises at the back of my head, where most of the steps got well acquainted with, but one flight had a sharp tooth that had left a gash on my left temple. Just a small hindrance though, thank God. Most of the blood on the steps and walls came from my deformed mouth.

I did suffer a few broken bones though: three ribs, my right ankle not to mention I dislocated my shoulder too. Well I didn't directly do it, the fall did. But since I take responsibility for my carelessness...I guess I did do it. Indirectly; I had attempted suicide before, back when I was fifteen and getting use to my medications but that's ancient history I swear.

I haven't kept a knife under my sheets or overdosed on sleeping pills since then. I learned that I was too young to die, and if I had been successful back then my mom would have been left alone.

To leave my mom alone, that was a permanent solution to a temporary problem. I mean, I did get use to my meds eventually but when you're young...sometimes everything seems to be hanging by a thread.

A single thread, ready to give in.

Like I was, at first.

_**-Page Break-**_

Contemplating death was nothing new to me. Especially my own. Back when I was fifteen and angry, trying to ignore the voices in my head...I would sit on my bed, alone in my room and think about how I would die. Would it be a natural death, like going to sleep and never waking up? Would it be premature, by a car accident or getting shot in a house robbery gone bad? Or would it be by my own hands, I so fed up with the therapy and the meds and confusion that I'd pop a few pills or take a knife and slice my wrists open? All of that awed me, because back then death seemed like a relief.

No more talking to a shrink. No more seeing a doctor. No more voices in my head, yelling and telling me to do crazy things. No more maniac episodes, no more long bouts of depression after taking my medications.

That sounded like pure Heaven to me.

Now, at eighteen and beginning to see the world I realized that that paradise I once sought out had been a lie. Something I made myself believe was the right thing, the best thing for everyone around me. I mean, did my mom really want a son who was bi-polar? Schizophrenic? A son that was bi-polar AND schizophrenic?

And my friends, Kendall, Shay and Jack. Was it easy on them too, to know that I could be chipper one minute and then angry, even violent, the next?

No, I thought my death would free them. Now, with this near-death experience I learned it would hurt them instead of help them.

I knew this already deep down, but sometimes something big has to happen for the lesson to really stick.

My death would have hurt them...

Hurt them. Hurt them so much.

...

When I regained consciousness, all I saw was white. Bright, plain white. As soon as my eyes adjusted however everything became much clearer, my reach better thanks to the pillows under my head: I was in the hospital, in a plain, sterile room with a high ceiling. My body was naked apart from my underwear and the thin, paper gown rough on my skin. I couldn't move my mouth, bandages going around and under my nose. I must have had more cuts than I realized: thick, dry mountains of gauze were around my wrists and ankles, a few I could feel wrapped about my torso as well. My left arm was in a sling (I thought I just dislocated my shoulder) and the gash on my temple was patched up, too.

My body felt numb, heavy no doubt from the anesthetic the doctors had to use before fixing me. I closed my eyes, listening closely. Waiting.

I couldn't hear them, the hell-beasts.

Hell-beasts, that's what I named the voices in my head. Usually in a situation like this they'd be talking, because I was off my meds.

A day or two had to have passed, it didn't feel like the incident happened only hours ago. And mixing power anti-psychotic drugs with sedatives and such was dangerous I believe; did the paramedics who brought me here even know I was a bi-polar II schizophrenic?

Everyone on campus knew, so maybe they did...

And I felt lucid, in control. Maybe my medication had lasted this long? I never took the risk of not taking them every day; I didn't want to find out how I was without them.

"James?" The sound of my name made me lose my train of thought, my eyes scouting for the source.

Short, dark brown-blonde hair, big wet brown eyes and a face being split in two by a relieved smile.

Mommy?

As if reading my thoughts a choked gasp left her thin, trembling lips. Her hand fell over my knee, afraid to touch my face or hand in case it would cause me pain.

"Oh honey! You're awake, I was so worried!"

...

Oh no...

Days HAD gone by. It only took Mom half an hour to reach campus for visits, but she had told me she had to go out of town this upcoming week. I didn't get mad that she wouldn't be able to see me; she was a busy woman plus I had Kendall, Shay and Jack so I wouldn't be alone. She was a great mom and businesswoman; I sometimes hated being the main concern for her. Because I knew most of her stress came from thinking about her mentally ill son, alone at school.

But now, she probably blew off the trip with me in the hospital. Sherwood was a very small town, there was no way to keep anything a secret here.

I felt tears fill my eyes, she carefully wiping each one away as they streamed down my stiff cheeks.

"Oh Jamie, God I was so worried! I was on my way to the airport when I got the call from your school. My heart fell into my stomach, I-I felt like my whole world was falling apart under my feet! I got here as soon as I could, but they wouldn't let me see you since you were in surgery. Oh honey I shouldn't have let you come back alone, this is all my fault! I s-should have made you stay until Sunday, I would have dropped you off instead of letting you go alone!"

Sunday? Tomorrow? Wait, if what I'm thinking was the case...

I tilted my head to read the screen of her cell-phone clutched in her other hand. It read Tuesday, February first. It was two-thirty in the afternoon.

My stomach turned inside out on itself. I've been unconscious for TWO days.

Two days...

Oh no, Kendall! Shay! Jack!

"James, who did this to you?" Mom asked, expression hardening. I swallowed hard, trying to shake my head no.

"James, you have to tell me! I have to set straight the person, or persons, who did this to you! You could have died honey, don't you understand that?!" She exclaimed, tears running down her face again.

I continued to shake my head, wishing I could hide in a hole.

"James Dylan Diamond, you tell me who did this to you this instant or I'll-"

_"Shut. Her. UP!"_

_"M-make her leave us alone!"_

_"She's hurting us!"_

Oh no, the hell-beasts. They're talking again...

Talking!

_**-Page Break-**_

My medication for schizophrenia had NOT lasted that long. I wasn't lucid, just loopy and now on the defensive.

My bi-polar medication, I was without it too.

I started shaking, violently trembling and having a hard time breathing. I forced myself to sit up and to pull out the IV in my arm, the heart monitor's beeping escalating.

My mom realized too late her demand had pushed me over the brink. She shouted my name and tried to calm me down, but I only snarled and pushed her away.

I wanted her to leave me alone, s-she was trying to kill me!

Leave me alone! Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone! Leave me alone! Just. Leave. Me. The FUCK ALONE!

GO AWAY!


	4. Confidence, think You haven't Sinned?

At first I was scared, I'm not gonna lie.

The first time I took my medication for my bi-polar II, the depression had hit me full force. The feelings of uncontrollable desire, freedom and drive would leave me hallow inside once the medication took its full effect. But it often left me feeling only more hopeless and confused, the medication; the anger would come and go, always finding a way.

The anger of knowing these meds would dictate the rest of my life.

The medication for my undifferentiated-type schizophrenia made me feel lucid. Yes at one point the voices in my head had been my company, and I hated Doctor Stone for deciding to shut them up. I didn't have much of a fucking social life, so why lose them? It only until later I noticed the hell-beasts were everything but friends for me. They would haunt me at night, tell me strange things and make me feel as if the world, the normal world, was so far away.

At first I was scared what these powerful anti-psychotic drugs would do to me. Over time though, I realized that they had saved me from myself more times than I can remember.

The need to escape this pointless world, the loneliness that came with being different, everything of the sort began to fade away.

And over time, the bullshit insults of others about me being "crazy" or "unhinged" began to slide off like oil. Words can only hurt you if you give them the power to.

So while off my meds, I lost control of everything that resided in me: the anger, the confusion, the hopelessness.

While on my meds, everything that resided in me...seemed to be asleep. The hell-beasts wouldn't talk, the hallucinations, because I had those too, would disappear and everything be coherent to me.

If only I could explain this better, well damn.

The next time I regained consciousness, my mom wasn't with me. I'm assuming that since I experienced a psychotic break of sorts, the doctor in charge of me had a staff hold me down to give me my meds via injection. I hated needles with all my heart but my memory of the whole thing was fuzzy; all I could recall was feeling something stab into me, then nothing.

Mom must have been scared as hell.

"J-James?"

I opened my eyes, at first afraid to. What happened in this room had not been pretty. I never thought that being off my medications for a short amount of time would drive me up the wall so easily. But then again, my body has gotten so use to them; taking something away so suddenly, it throws the entire system out of whack.

God, I hate this.

"Jamie, are you-Eh!-awake?"

Wait, I know that voice. I hadn't dreamt it, it was real.

"Kendall?" I pushed off my elbows, the IV back in my arm, and met his deep bottle green eyes.

He was sitting in a corner in a hard, metal chair. His usually bright eyes were red-rimmed, puffy and wet. He was dressed in a white hoodie and black skinny jeans, hair messier than normal and hands across his lower stomach. His expression brightened some at my response, he getting up so he stood to my right.

"How a-a-are you-Eh!-feeling?" He asked, face scrunching up once, twice before it smoothed over.

The sound he was making, the scrunching up of his face; the two most common tics of his.

"Kendy...Kendy!" My heart skipped a beat as I buried my face into his chest, arms tight around his waist. I felt him jump a bit in surprise but wasted no more time hugging me back, stroking my wild hair.

"I'm so glad to see you!" I exclaimed, smiling into his ribcage. He let out a light chuckle, it sounding cute even when he cracked his neck and sniffled out of the blue.

For some reason even though the guilt of attacking my mom earlier crushed my lungs, the sight of a familiar face, of a wanted face, helped the boulder lose some of its weight. Of course seeing my mom hadn't been a nightmare, but she...she was "normal". As much as she wished to understand me better, there was only so far she could go.

But Kendall can understand me fully. We both knew what it's like to be rejected over some things we couldn't control about ourselves.

We knew each other. We were like one person when together, on the same wavelength and everything.

"I'm glad to s-s-see you-umm-too, James. You gave us quite a scare-Eh!-back t-t-there. Who did this t-to you?" He asked, I wiggling around until he was under the thin sheets with me, careful not to trip the mountain of wires as he held me close.

I shook my head and buried my face more into his chest, wanting to avoid talking about that.

Kendall was a stubborn ass sometimes, though.

"Jamie, you have t-Eh!-tell me so I can h-h-help! Jack and Shay are w-worried! Your m-mom is worried t-t-too! This was n-no accident, who-Eh!-hurt you? Please t-tell me, please..."

It broke my heart to hear that rare, broken edge to his voice. I wanted so badly to tell him what happened, but fear paralyzed my thoughts.

If I told, then Jett would kill me. He had way more rep on campus than I did, the bi-polar II schizophrenic introvert.

Jett, the whole gang would come after me, hurt me or worse...hurt Kendall, Shay and Jack as payback for snitching.

No. No, no, no! I couldn't risk that! I had to do something but not tell, not tell!

I had to do something, anything to protect them!

Even if that meant...

Suicide. I grew to hate that word with a passion, learn that it was bad instead of good. The permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Temporary.

Permanent.

If it would stop Jett, make him leave my friends alone, then...

* * *

This story is close to being done. Next chapter is the end. Tell me what you think: will it end well? **Disclaimer: I own only the story's plot! Nothing else! And Shay and Jack aren't OCs! They are actually characters Kendall has played as in other shows! Their backgrounds, and Jack's last name, have been altered slightly but again they are NOT OCs! They are characters Kendall has played as, Shay from 'Without a Trace' and Jack from 'Ghost Whisperer' I think!**


End file.
